


The Anger of a Gentle Man, Part II

by miss_grey



Series: What We Do In The Dark [25]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, BAMF gene, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Werewolves, protective eugene roe, witch gene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 15:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19396588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: Gene and Sobel face off in South Philly.





	The Anger of a Gentle Man, Part II

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, y'all. Here it is. Hope you enjoy ;)

Sobel paused, hand sliding away from the book he’d been shelving. A tingle went down his spine and he narrowed his eyes. “ _What_ is _that?”_ he muttered, abandoning his work. He made his way through the shelves to the front of the room, where he managed to glimpse, just for a moment, the front door of Toye’s bar shutting. He turned to Evans, who was mid-pour on a cappuccino. “Who just went in there?” He asked, nodding toward the bar.

Evans frowned, setting the coffee aside. “Uh…those two skinny kids—you know, the redhead that was in here yesterday, and the tall, annoying one. And, uh… some new guy.”

Sobel’s eyes narrowed. “New guy? What did he look like?”

Evans shrugged. “Not much. Pretty average—dark hair, jeans. He was pretty pale, I guess.”

Sobel moved toward the door, cautiously, and pushed it open enough that the light breeze from the street blew in. He sniffed delicately, nose scrunching when he caught the scent. He retreated, pulling the door closed behind him. He frowned and cast another glance at Evans. “He’s a witch.” Sobel rolled his shoulders. “Watch him.”

* * *

“Bill,” Gene said, extending a hand. Bill took it, shaking easily. “It’s good to see you. Been a while.” And Babe realized, again, that he’d never actually gotten the story of how Bill and Gene had met. He’d have to remember to ask later.

“Yeah, Doc,” Bill said, voice still a bit shaky. “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure.” Gene cocked his head, eyes focusing on the air around Bill, almost like he could see something the others couldn’t. He still hadn’t let go of Bill’s hand. “Sobel’s power’s still lingerin’ ‘round you.” Gene’s eyes focused again, on Bill’s eyes this time. “Want me to take care a’ that fo’ you?”

Bill nodded, wary, but willing to trust the witch who’d flown all the way here to help them. Still clasping Bill’s hand, Gene took a step closer, bringing their bodies nearly together, and he blew on the air above Bill’s shoulder, like he was blowing a cobweb away. Bill’s hand warmed for just a second, and then his shoulders slumped with relief and he felt his body steady, the shakes finally leaving him. "Wow, Doc,” he said, eyes growing wide, “that sure is somethin’. Thanks.”

Gene nodded and took a step back, finally dropping Bill’s hand. He glanced back at Babe. “Can I get a formal introduction?”

“Right,” Babe said, chagrined. “The name thing.”

So he proceeded to introduce the Pack members to Gene by their full names, one at a time. Gene shook their hands and they thanked him for coming, thanked him for their medicine. Gene bowed his head, humble, with even a hint of blush to his cheeks.

Even in the depths of this terrible situation, it created a warm, fuzzy feeling in Babe’s belly to see Gene here, with Babe’s family, smiling and talking. It felt good…right.

After the introductions, Gene was eager to get started dealing with their problem, but Babe insisted that he needed to eat first.

Gene smiled back at him, eyes exhausted. “You gonna cook fo’ me, Edward?”

Joe snorted. “Not in my bar, he isn’t. Don’t you know this kid’s a menace in the kitchen, Doc?”

Gene glanced at Joe, laughter still shining in his dark eyes. “Hmmm… he and I were workin’ on that.”

Joe raised his eyebrows, and so did half the Pack, but Babe ignored them. “Malark,” Joe called. “Will you make the Doc somethin’ to eat?”

“Sure,” Malarkey said, running a still-nervous hand through his hair. “What would you like, Doc?”

“After the plane…” Gene said, shrugging, “well, I guess I could go for a good burger.”

Malarkey grinned. “That I can do.”

After Gene had eaten his burger (turning down the fries and pie that Malarkey tried to push on him), he rose from his seat and approached the bar door, studying the writing on it for a moment. “Edward—grab me some vodka, will ya?”

Babe frowned but fetched a bottle of the liquor for Gene. He handed it over and then watched, bemused, as Gene opened the bottle and poured a dribble of it into his hand. Then, deliberately, he flattened his palm against the spell on the door and dragged his fingers through the words, smudging the sharpie so that the words became illegible.

Behind them, the Pack shifted, uneasy to have their supernatural lock suddenly erased. Joe cleared his throat and asked “Why’d you do that?”

Gene stared at the ruined spell for a moment before he turned back to the others, the smallest frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well… Sobel’s goin’ to want to come in.” He shrugged. “Might as well let ‘im.”

* * *

The confrontation came with a knock, almost polite, before the door was pushed open and Sobel stepped into the bar, Evans shadowing his heels. Sobel cast his dark gaze around, assessing the wolves individually, eyes lingering on Bill before skipping to Babe, then coming to rest on Gene.

“You’re new.” Sobel said, eyes appraising, measuring.

Gene leaned against the bar between Babe and Malarkey, who had immediately taken to lingering near him. Gene shrugged.

Sobel folded his hands behind his back and stood up straight, as if he were a commander addressing his troops. “I’m sure these…” Here, Sobel’s lip curled in disdain “ _people_ have mentioned me. I’m here to clear up any misunderstandings. I go by Sobel. Who are you?”

Gene pushed away from the bar just slightly, so he could stand straight, a step in front of Babe and the others. “They call me The Doc.”

Sobel’s eyes narrowed, and Babe wondered if he was disappointed he hadn’t gotten a real name. “Well, _Doc,_ I hope you’re a reasonable man.”

Gene nodded slightly. “I like to think so.” And Gene was so calm, voice lilting in his beautiful accent, steady like he was having a chat in the comfort of his own home. 

Sobel nodded. “Good. Then I’ve got to ask—what are you doing here with them?” Gene didn’t answer. Only continued to stare at Sobel with his own dark, unfathomable eyes. “People like you and I, we’re different. It’s our duty to…discourage this sort of mingling.” Again, Sobel’s eyes raked over the Pack, disgusted, dismissive. “There’s an infestation in Philadelphia. Wolves running around acting like humans. They control whole neighborhoods here. This pack…they’re notorious. Hooligans. Thugs. When I heard about them, I knew I had to do something. I’m here to clean up the city.”

Said in such a way, Sobel _sounded_ reasonable, _sounded_ like he had good intentions. If Babe hadn’t seen what he’d done to Bill in the middle of the street, he might even believe that this man was decent. And maybe Babe wasn’t a scholar—maybe he’d never paid as much attention in history class as he should, but even Babe knew that some of the worst people in history had a way of sounding _reasonable_ before they did terrible things. He felt a shudder go down his spine at the thought.

Gene cocked his head. “I was under the impression that until you arrived, the pack had full control of their shifts so that they weren’t a threat to anybody.”

Sobel snorted. “Is that what they’ve told you? They’re liars, obviously. Animals.” At this, a low growl sounded, but Babe couldn’t tell which of the pack had started it. “They don’t know right from wrong. And why in the world would they control that side of themselves? It gives them strength, power. They’ve got a stranglehold on South Philadelphia, and that’s how they’ve managed it.”

Gene shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t want all that. Maybe they just wanted ta live their lives. Maybe they were, ‘til you interrupted.”

“That’s delusional.”

“It is what it is.”

“Look, _Doc,_ or whoever you are, I just came over here to try to talk reasonably with you, but it seems you’ve already got your mind made up about these dogs.”

“I do.” Gene shoved his hands in his pockets, and even Babe was impressed by the show of nonchalance, like Gene couldn’t care less this powerful witch stood right in front of him. “You should go.” Gene suggested. “This Pack is under my protection.”

Sobel snorted. “ _Protection_.” He shook his head. “They’re not the ones that need protection. It’s all the innocent people who live in these neighborhoods, who’ve been drawn in by these monsters. They don’t know who they’re drinking with when they come in here. They’re dangerous.”

Gene bowed his head slightly. “That’s true. They are. But lots of people are dangerous. What a man _can_ do isn’t as important as what he _chooses_ to do. And this Pack was mindin’ their own business befo’ you showed up and made a mess a’ things. Even after you violated the will of this wolf, the others didn’t retaliate. I think that says a lot about them.” Gene nodded toward the door. “Go. Be at peace. Leave these people alone.”

Sobel frowned, his mouth twisted in an ugly fashion, the hatred he bore for the wolves evident in his face. “And if I don’t?”

Gene shrugged, his thin shoulders rising and falling easily. “I told you—they’re under my protection. I’ll protect ‘em.”

With a final curl of his lip, Sobel snorted angrily and stormed from the bar, Evans quick behind him. The door slammed shut in their wake.

“So,” Bill said, “you think that’ll work?”

Gene turned to him. “No.”

“Then what was the point?” Joe asked.

“Couple ‘a things. We had to take each other’s measure, you know… size each other up.”

“And? You understand him now?”

“Oh, I understand him. Just don’t agree with him.”

“You’re not worried?” Malarkey asked, still hovering at Gene’s shoulder.

“Not particularly, no.”

“So what was the other purpose, then? For that little show?” Joe pressed.

Gene shrugged, as casual as ever. “Gave ‘im fair warnin’.”

* * *

The pokes and prods started about twenty minutes after Sobel left. Gene rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath, and brushed the feeling off. It was obvious Sobel was picking at Gene’s defenses, attempting to find a weakness that he could exploit. Gene didn’t know what the witch planned to do to him if he found a way through Gene’s protections, but it didn’t matter much. First of all, if Sobel was focused on Gene, it meant he wasn’t tormenting the Pack. Second, he wasn’t going to find a way in. 

Gene had gotten a good measure of Sobel while he’d stood inside the bar. The man felt he was righteous, self-important. He was fueled in large part by those beliefs, along with a dash of sadistic malice at wielding power over others. That’s what the attack on Bill Guarnere had been about—showing that he _could._ He’d meant to intimidate the Pack. To frighten them into tucking tail and leaving. 

But Gene knew more about the Pack than Sobel apparently realized. Gene knew, for instance, that this Pack had existed in South Philly for generations. That what they did might not always be 100% legal, but that they managed to keep the neighborhood running smoothly. And that muscle like Toye and Guarnere managed to keep the real bad elements out of the area. Gene knew that years ago, he’d been approached in the heart of Louisiana by a nervous, desperate Bill Guarnere who’d come seeking aid. He’d wanted a better life for his Pack than what their parents had had to go through—he didn’t want to see his friends as slaves to the ebb and pull of the full moon—didn’t want to see the trauma they might go through if they ever escaped or lost control and hurt someone. Bill Guarnere had put a lot on the line when he’d come to see Gene, but he’d promised Gene all that time ago that they wouldn’t hurt anyone, that if Gene helped them, they would do better than those who came before them. 

They’d lived under that accord for a while now, and they’d never suffered a disruption until now—with the interference of Sobel, who didn’t care about the Pack’s history, didn’t care that in a world that worked against them, they’d found their place and held onto it, and did their best every single day to live as normally as they could. 

Gene wasn’t a fan of monsters, but he knew very well that the world was a complicated place. And he knew that sometimes, creatures were more men than monsters. And intentions meant a lot to Gene. He’d continued to aid the Pack while they upheld their end of the bargain, and that’s all it was—Gene made the world a bit more peaceful in this way—until Edward had shown up at his home and changed things.

Now…well, now Gene had a personal interest in the Pack as well, and he’d be damned if he let some self-righteous witch mess with people Gene cared about.

So, he simply observed, silently, as Sobel attempted a covert attack of Gene’s defenses. He catalogued all of the attempts while he sat with Edward and the others, barely listening to their conversation as they joked and worried, back and forth, with each other.

He could still feel their trepidation—had felt it like a wave when he’d stepped into the bar, the worry and anxiety of the loss of control, the violation of their personal wills and personal space. Gene had understood that. But in the time since his arrival, the needling feelings had since died down. He still felt the concern in Edward, the anxiety rolling off of Malarkey, who had, for some reason, decided to stick very close to Gene. But he felt trust there, as well, in the subtle nod of Bill Guarnere and Edward’s hand on his shoulder. 

Gene felt Sobel’s magic slide along his spine, wrap around his wrists, settle on his chest. Gene took a deep breath and began to pray, once again, for guidance. _Lord, guide my hand. Lord, give me the strength for what must be done. Give me patience and understanding._ Gene shrugged, lightly, and the magic melted away. From across the street, he could feel Sobel’s rage and frustration mount further.

* * *

It started with a low rumble, just at the edge of his hearing, and Bill cocked his head to get a better sense—but then it grew louder, quickly, so loud even that Babe pressed his hands over his ears and shouted “What the hell is that?” Then the building started to tremble. 

The tremors rattled the floorboards and a bottle crashed to the floor behind the bar. Joe cursed, his own growl adding to the still-growing rumble.

The Doc stood from his stool and rolled his shoulders, taking a couple quick strides toward the middle of the floor. “Brace yo’selves.” He called back over his shoulder. “He’s comin’ back.”

The Doc planted his feet firmly on the floor, closed his eyes, and pointed his hands toward the floor, fingers spread, like he was attempting to feel an air current. A moment later, the bar stopped trembling, miraculously, and then the door flew open and Sobel stormed in, dark eyes angry, triumphant. “You!” He hissed, pointing at the Doc. “I _know_ you now.”

The Doc shrugged, unconcerned, though Bill could hear the slight edge to his voice, (impatience?) as he replied, “If you did, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

Sobel laughed, the sound dark, cocky. “You think an awful lot of yourself, don’t you, _Doc?_ But you’re nothing more than a child, splashing around in puddles. You’ve got nothing on me.” Sobel squared his shoulders, smirk fixed in place. “So, I’m going to give you a choice—leave now, or face the same consequences as these dogs, _witch._ ”

The lights flickered and Bill glanced up, worriedly. Babe made to take a step toward the Doc, but Bill reached out and hauled him back, shaking his head. Bill didn’t know what was about to go down, but he knew that the Doc had a better chance of dealing with it than the rest of them did.

“You should leave.” The Doc said, again. His fists clenched for a moment, then he uncurled them. Bill watched his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. 

“I don’t think I will.” Sobel snarled, and he flung a hand out toward Malarkey, who’d taken up a place behind the bar. 

The Doc raised his own hand and murmured something, fast, under his breath, and diverted whatever attack Sobel had aimed at the wolf. Malarkey yelped and ducked behind the bar, getting out of dodge. The Doc focused his attention on Sobel once more. “I won’t allow you to hurt them,” he said. 

“You can’t stop me!” Sobel cursed, flinging another hand out toward Bill and Babe. Bill reached for his friend, hand just clasping on his shoulders, when the Doc stepped in front of them, shielding them, and Bill felt a wave of warmth roll over him and Babe, then settle on their skin, close, protective. 

“Please, just leave.” The Doc implored, one more time.

Sobel’s eyes grew darker, and Bill could see static build on his hands. The bar started to shake again. “You can’t protect them forever,” Sobel hissed. “What will they do when you’re broken?” He stormed forward, sparks zapping around his hands, and he reached for the Doc.

“Look out!” Babe screamed, and then, in a move that had Bill blinking in confusion, instead of dodging Sobel’s lunge, the Doc simply took a single step forward into his space, meeting him. He raised his own pale, normal-looking hand, and with two fingers, tapped Sobel in the chest. Sobel stumbled backward, snarling, his hands flickering back to normal, eyes lightening again. He fell against the door.

He blinked, eyes wild, confused, scared. “What did you do to me?!” He screamed. 

“People with power like us…it’s our responsibility to use it for good, not harm. You’ve abused your power.”

Sobel’s lip curled but his hand scrambled for the doorknob. “And now you’re going to punish me? Is that it?”

The Doc’s brows pulled down and he frowned a moment, before saying “Punish? No. Punishment and judgment ain’t my place in this world. But I am going to make it so that you can’t hurt anyone else with that power.”

Sobel’s hand scrambled frantically, then curled around the doorknob and tugged. He spun around and fled through the door, dashing into the street, long legs carrying him toward his bookstore. But when he got there, he found the door locked, or jammed. He pounded against it, desperate, shouting for Evans to open up. 

The Doc rolled his shoulders, stuck his hand in his pocket, and pulled out the photo of Sobel. He followed the other man out into the street and Bill, Babe, and the others followed after him, their hackles raised, worried, but curious to see what would happen next. Most of them poured into the street behind the Doc, some of the others stood in the safety of the bar’s doorway. All eyes were glued on Sobel and the Doc.

Sobel must have heard or felt their approach, because he spun toward the Doc, fists clenched, shaking from fear and rage. “You brought this on yo’self with your choices,” the Doc murmured. With his other hand, he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a long, black string. “Sobel,” the Doc addressed, raising both things in his hands. “I’m bindin’ you.” Then, as easy as anything, the Doc started to wind the black string around the photograph of Sobel, and the witch began to tremble, his eyes terrified.

“Oh, God,” one of the younger wolves gasped, “What’s he doin’ to him?”

“Shut up!” Joe hissed.

The Doc closed his eyes and continued to wrap the photograph, tighter and tighter, until it was bent in like a circle, wrapped tightly in black string. The Doc murmured under his breath, words that Bill didn’t understand, but he could feel… _something_ happening. He could feel the pressure on the street change, growing thicker and thicker, oppressive, like when you’ve swam too deep and the water’s about to crush you, or when your ears need to pop on a plane. It grew worse, and worse, and Bill began to squirm, watching the tense showdown between the two witches, until suddenly, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the street and the moment trembled, uncertain. Then the Doc lowered his hand, shoved the photograph back in his pocket, and Sobel collapsed against his now-open door. The pressure lifted and suddenly there was sound in the street again. 

Sobel stood, eyes wide, panting, hand fluttering over his own chest, as if expecting to find a bullet hole or something. 

“Now,” the Doc said, voice calm, but commanding, “take your friend and leave this place. Don’t come back.”

Evans slinked out of the bookstore, grabbed onto Sobel, who was still in shock, and hauled him down the street, tripping over themselves as they ran. Behind Bill, the guys started whispering frantically with one another, a mix of victory, fear, and respect. Bill kept his eyes fixed on the Doc, who watched Sobel’s retreat until he’d turned a corner and disappeared. Then, turning, the Doc met his eyes for a moment, before a slight frown tugged down the corner of his mouth and his shoulders tensed again. 

Gene was exhausted and he wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and pass out, but before he could allow himself a breath of relief, he felt a prick of _something_ between his shoulder blades, like he was being watched, and he turned sharply. Gene’s eyes fixed on a spot of darkness amongst the buildings. “And you?” He called, casting his gaze toward the shadowed alley between the bar and the sandwich shop. He could sense a presence, could feel someone watching. And now, a burst of apprehension, fear. Gene rolled his shoulders, shaking off his exhaustion for this new confrontation. He’d already dealt with Sobel—who else was lingering around Toye’s place? “Come on out here, where we can see you.” Gene narrowed his eyes and saw a shadow move amidst the others and peel away, until a tall, broad man dressed in jeans and a forest green Henley sidled into the street light, body stiff, hands held up in front of him in a sign of peace, eyes focused solely on Gene. “What’s yo’ name?” Gene asked. In the street, the lights flickered.

The man shifted slightly, eyes wary. He swallowed thickly, and Gene’s eyes traced the movement. “Carwood Lipton.”

Gene narrowed his eyes, sorting through his memory, until he found what he was looking for. “Lipton.” He drawled. “You’re a hunter. I helped you with a spell once—meant to keep a demon out.” He cocked his head. “You don’t mean to cause any trouble here, do you?” The question was also a warning, and the other man must have understood that very clearly.

Lipton shook his head, just slightly. “No.” He waved his hand vaguely. “I, uh…saw what happened.” He swallowed thickly again. “But I, uh… I had nothing to do with that.” He sighed, shoulders still tense. “Unfortunate timing, I guess.” And he sounded so sincere about that, Gene almost believed him. Lipton scanned the faces in the crowd for a moment, before looking at Gene again. “I’ve come looking for George Luz. About a personal matter.”

Gene frowned, another warning perched on the tip of his tongue, fingers tingling, when the shifter George Luz emerged from behind some of the taller werewolves. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hey, Lip.”

The hunter’s shoulders relaxed just slightly and he allowed his own lips to twitch. “George.” And Gene could feel a whole muddled mix of emotions pour out of the hunter, then, but none of them were malicious. Lipton’s eyes searched George’s. “It’s been a while.”

Edward sidled up to Gene, then, and wrapped an arm around Gene’s trembling shoulders. Edward glanced down at Gene for a moment, eyes concerned, before he turned to the shifter. “You got this covered, Luz?” Edward asked.

George shrugged. “Yeah, I’m good. Lip and I go way back.” He tore his eyes away from the hunter for just a moment, glanced at Edward and Gene and said “You guys can relax.”

Edward nodded. “Alright, hear that, Gene? They’re good.” He tightened his arm over Gene’s shoulders and brushed his fingers along Gene’s arm. His eyes were fixed on Gene’s face, and he reached a hand up to cup his cheek. “You did what you needed to do, Gene,” Edward murmured. “You can relax now.” He ran his thumb over Gene’s cheek before letting it drop. “Let’s get you home now, so you can rest.” Gene nodded, and, casting one last warning look at the hunter, Gene allowed Edward to pull him up the street toward his home.

* * *

_Elsewhere…_

A strong, tanned hand reached out and gripped the jagged rock of the cliff, steam and sulfur curling up from the contact to dissipate on the air. The barren landscape stretched out endlessly below. And above…well. 

Ron cursed, and, reaching once more, dragged himself out of Hell.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love, guys! They make my day and keep me going. Please let me know what you think! Also, feel free to come say hi on tumblr. I'm @realhunterswearplaid.


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